HUNTSVILLE, Texas — Moises Sandival Mendoza took his final breaths at 6:40 p.m. on April 23, 2025, ending more than two decades of legal battles and appeals that could never undo the horror he inflicted on a young mother and her infant daughter.
The 41-year-old was pronounced dead after lethal injection at the Texas State Penitentiary in Huntsville, closing a case that began with a ransacked home, a crying baby, and a mother who simply vanished from a quiet Farmersville neighborhood on a spring morning in 2004.
Mendoza had spent over 20 years on death row for the brutal murder of Rashelle “Relle” Tollison, a 20-year-old mother whose life was snuffed out in a series of increasingly violent acts that even prosecutors described as senseless and cruel beyond comprehension.
The execution proceeded without drama, according to witnesses, with Mendoza using his final moments not to proclaim innocence, but to offer a direct, personal apology to the family he had devastated two decades earlier.
“I am sorry for having robbed you of Relle’s life,” Mendoza said, addressing the victim’s parents, brothers, cousin, and uncle who watched through the glass window of the adjoining witness room.
He continued, acknowledging the child Relle left behind. “I know nothing I could ever say or do would ever make up for it. I want you to know that I am sincere.
I apologize.”
The daughter, now a young adult, was not present in the witness room, but Mendoza directed his words toward her anyway, acknowledging he had robbed her of a mother she never had the chance to know.
Before the drugs began to flow, Mendoza’s spiritual adviser prayed over him for approximately two minutes, a brief moment of solemnity before the state carried out its sentence.
Turning to another window, Mendoza addressed his own family — his wife, sister, and two friends — speaking in Spanish. “I love you. I am with you.
I am well and at peace,” he said. “You know that I’m well, and everything is love.”
At 6:21 p. m. , the lethal drugs began their work.
Witnesses reported Mendoza let out two loud gasps before beginning to snore. After approximately 10 snores, his body fell completely still, and he was pronounced dead exactly 19 minutes later.
There would be no final meal for Mendoza. Texas abolished the inmate’s choice of last meal in 2011, after two convicted murderers ordered massive feasts and then refused to eat a single bite, prompting lawmakers to end the tradition entirely.
Instead, Mendoza received the standard prison fare served to all inmates on death row, a small indignity that underscored the state’s no-frills approach to capital punishment in the 21st century.
The crime that sent Mendoza to death row began on the night of March 17, 2004, when Relle Tollison returned to her Farmersville home with her 5-month-old daughter, Avery, after visiting her mother’s house around 10 p.m.
It seemed like an ordinary evening. Nothing about that night suggested the nightmare that would unfold before sunrise, when Relle would cross paths with a man she knew from high school, a man who had shown interest in her after her separation from her husband.
The next morning, Relle’s mother arrived for her customary check-in and found chaos. The back door stood wide open. Furniture had been shoved violently out of place, with the bed frame dislodged and the headboard knocked loose as if someone had crashed into it.
A nightstand was pushed away from the wall. Yet strangely, Relle’s purse sat untouched and her car remained in the driveway, suggesting this was no ordinary burglary turned violent.
On the kitchen floor lay Relle’s divorce papers, face down, marred by a large, muddy bootprint that would later become a crucial piece of forensic evidence. And on the mattress, alone and crying, was 5-month-old Avery.
Relle was nowhere to be found, and police immediately recognized they were dealing with something far more sinister than a woman who had packed up and left her baby behind.
A massive search began within hours, with dozens of neighbors fanning out on foot, ATVs, and horseback, combing the fields and rural roads surrounding Farmersville.
The search continued for five agonizing days. Then, approximately 10 miles outside town, a hiker exploring a wooded area spotted what looked like the remnants of a fire in the dirt.
Getting closer, the hiker discovered the burned remains of a young woman, dumped in a remote location, set ablaze, and buried beneath a pile of logs in what investigators later described as a desperate attempt to erase all evidence.
The body was confirmed to be Relle Tollison. The killer had tried to destroy everything — fingerprints, DNA, any trace that could link him to the crime. Initially, it appeared he had succeeded, leaving detectives with few leads.
Attention first turned to Andrew Tollison, Relle’s estranged husband. The divorce had been contentious, and Relle was the one who had filed. Detectives learned Andrew had attended a party the night of the disappearance, drinking heavily before getting a ride home.
His alibi initially seemed solid. Multiple witnesses at the party remembered Andrew and recalled how intoxicated he had been. But one detail refused to be ignored: the bonfire at that party, and the wood used to burn Relle’s body appeared to match.
All logs were tested — eight recovered from the crime scene and three from the bonfire site. Every single one shared a curious chemical signature: the same mix of metals, including an unusually high concentration of titanium.
It was a forensic first. Burned wood had never before been used as breakable evidence in a criminal case, but the chemical match proved the logs came from the same source, possibly even the same tree.
Initially, that evidence seemed to implicate Andrew again. He was at the party. He had access to the fire.
But then witnesses came forward with new information that shifted the investigation in a completely different direction.
Andrew did not bring the firewood to that party, witnesses told police. Another man did — a 21-year-old named Moises Mendoza.
Investigators learned that Relle and Mendoza knew each other from high school, and that Mendoza had expressed romantic interest in Relle following her separation from Andrew. They had spoken briefly at the bonfire, but Relle had made clear to friends she was not interested.
When first questioned, Mendoza admitted picking up Relle that night but claimed she had left with him willingly — an assertion that defied belief, since it would mean she had voluntarily abandoned her infant daughter in a ransacked house.
The story darkened considerably upon his second interrogation. Mendoza confessed that while in his truck, he choked Relle until she lost consciousness. He then transported her to a field behind his house where he sexually assaulted her.
He choked her a second time, then dragged her deeper into the field and strangled her a third time, until she stopped moving entirely. To ensure she was truly dead, he stabbed her in the throat.
Mendoza initially left the body where it fell, believing no one would find it. But as police closed in and panic took hold, he decided he needed to hide the evidence before it was too late.
He loaded Relle’s body into his car and drove deep into rural Collin County, pulling off onto a remote dirt pit far from any road or home. There, in the isolated quiet, he set her body on fire.
When the flames subsided, he buried what remained beneath a brush pile, confident no one would ever discover it. Six days later, the hiker proved him wrong.
As investigators delved into Mendoza’s past, they uncovered a disturbing history. Just months before Relle vanished, he had attempted to abduct multiple women in Dallas. At the time of her murder, he was already out on bail for those offenses.
A search of his home yielded a pair of boots caked with soot and saturated with the stench of gasoline. Forensic analysts compared the tread pattern to the bootprint left on Relle’s divorce papers — it was a perfect match.
Then came the jeans, buried beneath ash and grime. Hidden in the fabric were tiny flecks of dried blood. DNA testing confirmed with certainty that the blood belonged to Relle Tollison.
The case had become overwhelming: physical evidence, DNA matches, the boot tread, and a confession. But when confronted, Mendoza showed no reaction. No denial, no apology, no emotion whatsoever.
He sat cold and quiet, as though the entire matter had nothing to do with him. That chilling demeanor would later factor into the jury’s deliberation on whether he posed a future danger to society.
Mendoza was charged with capital murder. At trial, the central question was never whether he committed the crime — he had already confessed. The question was whether he deserved to die.
On July 1, 2005, Texas law required the jury to answer two questions: whether Mendoza was a future danger to society, and whether any mitigating circumstances existed that should spare his life.
The jury answered yes to the first question and no to the second. Moises Sandival Mendoza was sentenced to death.
His legal team launched a prolonged appeals battle, arguing that his original defense had failed him by not investigating his past for signs of mental illness, trauma, or other mitigating factors that might have swayed the jury.
Those appeals wound their way through Texas courts and then the federal system. All were denied. The sentence stood, and the execution date was finally set.
In the final hours, Mendoza’s demeanor reportedly remained calm, a stark contrast to the violence that had defined his crime. His spiritual adviser was by his side as the hour approached.
Witnesses described the execution as peaceful, if somber. The victim’s family watched through the window, having waited more than two decades for this moment of finality.
The apology Mendoza offered was the first acknowledgment many in the family had ever heard from him directly, even if it came too late to change the outcome.
After his death, Mendoza’s body was removed from the gurney and the standard post-execution procedures began. Texas law does not allow for further comment or public display.
The execution marked one more chapter in Texas’s long history with capital punishment, a state that leads the nation in executions and has shown no sign of abandoning the practice.
For the Tollison family, the execution brings a measure of closure, though it can never bring back the young mother whose life was cut short in such brutal fashion.
Relle’s daughter, who was just 5 months old when her mother was murdered, has grown up without ever knowing the woman who died trying to protect her.
The case will be remembered for its forensic innovation, the matching wood evidence that broke the case wide open, and the resolution that came two decades later in a Huntsville execution chamber.
Moises Sandival Mendoza, age 41, was pronounced dead at 6:40 p.m. Central time on April 23, 2025, having spent more than half his life behind bars for a crime that left devastation in its wake.
The state’s execution protocol was carried out without complications, and witnesses from both sides departed the facility shortly thereafter, ending a saga that began with a missing mother in Farmersville and ended with a final apology in Huntsville.
